


Wood

by merryfortune



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Bondage, Dendrophilia, Fingering, Fluff and Angst and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Out of Character, Relationship Development, Swearing, rim jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 16:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16122590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: Emotional ties become physical ties after attempting to bond with Spectre over familial grief.





	Wood

   Ryoken opened his refrigerator and sighed. “Spectre why is that whenever you visit, you always put strange things in the fridge?”

   Spectre shrugged. He was sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping a smoothie that he had made earlier with the audacity of making with ingredients he found in Ryoken’s house.

   “If I don’t stash things here, I’d have no place to stash them at all.” Spectre replied.

   “You really should consider getting a job or something.” Ryoken replied.

   “I do have a job. One I take very seriously.” Spectre retorted. “That is, of course, being your faithful right-hand man.”

   Ryoken huffed. “I mean a side job. Get an apartment of your own or something.”

   “That doesn’t suit my style, I’m afraid, Ryoken-sama.” Spectre replied.

   “Yes, I’m well aware of ‘your style’.” Ryoken sighed.

   Spectre laughed.

   “And speaking of ‘your style’. I’m glad you decided to take a shower too, whilst helping yourself to my groceries. You were beginning to get a bit rank.” Ryoken said and he closed the refrigerator.

   Spectre’s style, of course, being that he preferred to hide out where no one could catch him on film. He was a ghost after all and one with an affinity with nature. He tended to go where no one would think to tread. He was good at pitching tents in places which didn’t seem to exist. His other style was letting himself come to reek until he doused off in a hotel or something. Occasionally, he would borrow his master’s services, when he could find it in himself to be so bold.

   He had lost his stomach after realising there were strange things in his refrigerator. Not necessarily strange, just enough out of the ordinary – in tangent with Spectre – to be unsettling. He had a very, very bad feeling about the destiny of that rather large cucumber that he saw in a grocery bag, the label of which he did not recognise, and was in the company of an exotic-looking bottle of lube.

   “I’ll take my leave soon, don’t you worry.” Spectre said. “I’ll be polite and do your dishes first, since I was the one to use them. I’ll scrub down your shower recess, if you like. And do the sink. And if you have any other chores, I’ll take them in a heartbeat.”

   Ryoken sighed. “I’m eighteen. I can do my own chores.”

   “I don’t mind. Anything to lessen the burden… Which reminds me, if I may be so bold to broach the subject… but how are you holding up in the wake of everything?” Spectre asked, and he put down his smoothie.

    Ryoken sat down at the breakfast bar next to him. “I’m still processing.” Ryoken said. “I had to leave my childhood home behind; take out a rental… Make arrangements for my father’s cremation and everything. And that’s just the ‘normal’ side of things.”

   Spectre awkwardly moved his hand closer to Ryoken’s but he stopped himself from touching his companion’s hand. It was as though he were afraid that he might spoil the youth with his filth, or something similar.

   “If household care is out the realm of possibility, then what about emotional duties? Or is that too presumptuous of my place?” Spectre asked.

   “It’s fine.” Ryoken stated. “You’re fine… I’m fine.”

   Spectre retracted his hand. He could tell that Ryoken was anything but again, that line. He didn’t know where to draw it. So, his hand flopped and returned to the tall glass half empty with a fruity concoction. He pushed it closer to Ryoken and removed the straw.

   “I haven’t drunken from the glass itself, help yourself…” he mumbled.

   Ryoken, however, pinched the straw from Spectre’s hand. He placed it back into the glass. He put it to his mouth and savoured the surprised across Spectre’s face. He was blushing even. Ryoken rolled his eyes.

   “It’s… very sweet.” he commented after a long suck.

   “I prefer it that way… Did you know mangoes are in season again? They were a steal…” Spectre mumbled.

   “How do you feel about this? As a child of the Lost Incident?” Ryoken asked.

   “I’m a sadomasochist with a twisted personality, Ryoken-sama. I don’t get an opinion. Ask Yusaku or someone.” Spectre replied.

   Ryoken huffed. “What about as a Knight of Hanoi?” he asked.

   He wanted to call Spectre ‘sane’ given his stance on the Ignis created as a result of those six months' torture, but clearly, he was just as messed up as the others. Perhaps more so in how it manifested. Vengeance and anger made sense. What happened to Spectre made little, but he never seemed to be one bound to such logic of regular patterns of human emotion.

   “I am devastated that we lost the doctor but alas, I’ve always held him in esteem of professionalism. There is a disconnect.” Spectre lamented.

   “I see.” Ryoken said.

   He wanted to agree. However, there would always be that connection because of his blood and convictions. He would always be tied to Professor Ryoken due to their familial bonds, and not just because of the bonds of the Incident.

   Thus, Ryoken licked his lips and dared to ask: “What about as a friend? I do see you as such.”

   “I am flattered by such a generous statement of our relationship. I would like to preface my statement as such first.” Spectre began diplomatically.

   “Okay, fair.” Ryoken replied.

   “But as your… friend, I am respectfully sad in your stead as well.” Spectre said.

   “Now you’re just saying what I want to hear.” Ryoken said.

   Spectre shrugged. “I do not know what else. I have moulded a good chunk of myself to placating you and you alone.”

   Ryoken’s heart skipped a beat. Sometimes, Spectre’s obsession on him was borderline awful. Other times, it was strangely comforting; a friend whom he could possess like none other, one who would never leave or challenge him. Right now, managed to be one of these times wherein it was both.

   “Okay, but what about as a person independent of me?” Ryoken asked.

   “Alas, I am not and cannot ever be independent of you.” Spectre replied, sternly.

   “What about hypothetically?” Ryoken asked.

   Spectre mused. “Well, I am of a non-traditional background. Due to being abandoned by my birth mother and never recieving the nurturing the matrons of the orphanage were supposed to give me, all whilst being fed this tale about how blood families ought to be. Observing your family from this perspective has been... unusual."

   "Awful?" Ryoken suggested in lieu of Spectre's kinder lexical choices.

   "Perhaps. Regardless, I am also of the belief that there is an afterlife. I believe that I will come back, personally. Either as a tree or something close to you again. But, if there is no reincarnation but rather life after death. Then, if those who do evil are sent to eternal damnation, then I am of a reasonable level of faith your father is burning in hellfire. Though, I still thank him for what he did for me. The Lost Incident provided me with an opportunity to become someone I wanted to be; even if it was on the suffering of others; I do acknowledge those perspectives, even though they clash with our glorious purposes.”

   “That was quite… inspired, Spectre.” Ryoken replied. “But, I don’t disagree. He needs to pay for what he did. To you, and the others… even me.”

  Spectre was silent on that note. He didn’t bring himself to so much as glance at his master. His expression was unreadable too. Ryoken’s stomach knotted. He wished that he could read minds because he was certain there was so much Spectre would never tell him. He sincerely wished that Spectre wasn’t so secretive and evasive on these sorts of topics.

   “Let’s change the subject.” Ryoken said, brushing off the encroaching feeling of the consuming, awkward silence.

   “Alright, whatever pleases you.” Spectre replied.

   Ryoken chewed the straw and drank more. His gaze drifted ahead of him, through the kitchen window and into the anonymous skyline of Den City. However, that did not mean he was oblivious to the extremely fixated gaze that Spectre held upon his lips.

   He sighed. “I don’t get it. What’s the attraction?”

   “In- Indirect kiss.” Spectre stammered, starstruck and blushing. “Ryoken-sama is giving me an indirect kiss. How lewd. I can’t help but cherish all pittance you throw towards a cur such as I, Young Master.”

   Ryoken huffed. “Weirdo.” And then, his brow creased as he remembered the plump cucumber in the refrigerator, the likes of which he was certain was not going to be in a salad of any sort. “Be honest with me, Spectre, have you ever thought of me… like that?”

   “Of course not.” he replied hastily.

   “Really?” Ryoken replied, raising an eye brow.

   That had to be a lie, but Spectre’s girlishly virginal demeanour seemed to be evidence of truthfulness. After all, they were both young adult men. Surely, they could be honest about that and Spectre had never lied before or insinuated other misgivings.

   “Yes, really.” Spectre snapped.

   “Why not?” Ryoken decided to reply even though he was certain there was going to be something which would revolt him somewhere soon in this conversation.

   “Because with my affiliations, I would surely tarnish your image and I would never forgive myself if I allowed that.” Spectre rambled.

   “And by affiliations you mean….” Ryoken’s eyes wandered to the refrigerator. “Kinks? Fetishes?”

   Spectre embarrassedly nodded.

   “Interesting.” Ryoken mused. “Well, as your master, I give you permission to use my image in whatever way you like, as perverse as it is.”

   “Surely you jest, Young Master. I know you’re a callous man at heart, but this is too cruel. Even I can’t take it.” Spectre mewled.

   “No. I mean it. I-” Ryoken paused as his sentence diverged. “I…”

   “You, what?” Spectre prompted, genuinely curious.

   “I simultaneously don’t care and am… weirdly aroused by the thought of being someone’s fodder for their… material.” Ryoken said, frowning but the hue of his cheeks rather betraying that scowl.

   “Who would have thought that my beloved Ryoken-sama would have such a streak in him?” Spectre rhetorically asked.

   Ryoken continued to scowl. He wondered, fiercely, how the conversation had managed to take such a turn. Not too long ago, they were lamenting and discussing the passing of his father and now they were engaging in whatever this is. It was foul.

   “Just because it isn’t as clearly advertised as it is in others, does not mean it isn’t there entirely. Looks can often be deceiving. Isn’t there an adage or something for this specific scenario?” Ryoken grumbled.

   “Yes, true. The quietest are often the loudest… and least vanilla.” Spectre replied.

   Ryoken continued to mull on the thought of what he permitted Spectre to do. His eyes continued to train on the refrigerator and imagine exactly where that disgusting cucumber was. Spectre seemed to notice, and he seemed to take a hint of amusement.

   “Aren’t you going to ask…?” Spectre asked. “Or am I being too dirty?”

   “Ugh, fuck it.” Ryoken cussed. “I’ve been thinking this for quite some time. How did all that… happen? I thought trees were like a mother figure to you?”

   “Oh, they are.” Spectre nodded in sage agreement. “I think its Freudian or Oedipal. Regardless, I don’t think it matters. It’s just a part of me and a constant. I just find myself totally and utterly allured by trees and tendrils.”

   “I see. Well, that was wholly unsatisfying to learn.” Ryoken replied.

   He took another sip of the smoothie. It was overly sweet for him and he wasn’t even thirsty. It was just fun to rile Spectre up.

   “So, sadomasochism and dendrophilia, huh?” Ryoken mused.

   “Yes.” Spectre replied, all too gleefully.

   “That’s fucked.” Ryoken commented.

   “I know.” Spectre replied.

   “Do you want to fuck?” Ryoken asked, casually as he set down the now drained of smoothie glass in front of them both.

   “Wh-What?” Spectre sputtered, eyes wide.

   “You don’t want to? That committed to your right hand, huh?” Ryoken asked, teasing.

   Spectre continued to stammer. “Of course not, I am wholly and utterly devoted to you. I am your right-hand man, Young Master.”

   Ryoken snickered. “I see. And yet, you would not satiate your master?”

   “I would defile you, sir.” Spectre replied.

   “I’m curious though.” Ryoken said.

   “About what?” Spectre replied, aghast.

   “About you. And how you would use a cucumber.” Ryoken said.

   The word ‘cucumber’ was clumsy in his mouth. It clotted his tongue with a taste which was abhorrent. He hated it. He hated the fact that Spectre regularly preferred to use a cucumber over his hand or the saner of option of just getting a dildo or something.

   “I would never…” Spectre rambled.

   “Never what? Don’t deny it. You and I both know you don’t intend to properly eat that cucumber.” Ryoken accused.

   “Please stop saying such vile things with your mouth, I can’t take it!” Spectre shrieked.

   Ryoken chuffed. He rolled his eyes. Yes, it was very fun to rile up Spectre. The hue of red in his cheeks now were rather palatable.

   Spectre calmed down once he took a breath though. He refused to let his gaze hover in the vicinity of Ryoken, however. He swallowed.

   “A-Are you certain?” Spectre asked.

   “Positive.” Ryoken replied.

   “I will defile you.” Spectre stated.

   “Is that not the point in a loss of virginity?” Ryoken asked.

   “I’m undeserving of that honour, Ryoken-sama.” Spectre replied.

   “And yet, I’m giving it to you regardless.” Ryoken said in defence of himself.

   Spectre huffed. “I would be thrilled then.” His heart fluttered. “Except don’t call it fucking. I have dignity. So, do you.”

   Ryoken laughed. “Then let’s take this dignity to the bedroom then?”

   Spectre blushed. “My master is far too bold with someone as lowly as me.”

   “Oh, hush now.” Ryoken huffed.

   “Are you certain you want to see those sides of me?” Spectre asked.

   Ryoken’s gaze darted, as obviously as possible, between the refrigerator and Spectre. He was hyperaware he was likely going to go through something he would want to purge from his memory later. Part of him wanted to retort something rude but Spectre was fragile enough as is, so he refrained.

   “Certain.” Ryoken said.

   Spectre took a breath and swung off the stool. He brushed himself down.

   “Very well. You have my consent to do with me as you please. Nothing is taboo.” Spectre said. Now it was his eyes which drifted to the refrigerator and a grotesque smile began to illuminate his face. “Can we bring th-”

   “No. Absolutely not.” Ryoken firmly replied.

   “Understood, Young Master.” Spectre replied blithely but Ryoken was certain he was, secretly, extremely disappointed.

   “But grab the lube… I won’t lie, I haven’t any in my possession.” Ryoken mumbled.

   “Understood, Ryoken-sama.” Spectre replied.

   After that though, they were able to move themselves to the bedroom as Ryoken had suggested. He placed the bottle of lube on the bedside table and then awkwardly paused. The master bedroom was bare. It was minimalist but impersonal. It wasn’t supposed to be anything but as it was just a half-way home for their less than sea-bound operations, after all. Thus, Ryoken moved in first. It was his room, regardless of how unlike him or out of place he was. Spectre, however, hovered in the doorjamb.

   Ryoken took off his light coat and placed it on the back of his desk chair. He glanced over his shoulder. His brows squared as he realised Spectre was being… weird. Although, that was to be expected. That was sort of the point of this. Ryoken just didn’t know how to interpret this particular element of Spectre’s sexual weirdness.

   His stance was firm. He seemed to be concentrating hard on something and that was causing his muscles to lock uncomfortably hard.

   “I’m ready to be your bitch, sir.” Spectre said. “I mean, I’ve always been your bitch but I’m ready to fulfil such a role.”

   Ryoken gawked. He choked on his own breath, even. He, personally, had never considered Spectre to be his ‘bitch’ and hearing him say such words so plainly was disconcerting.

   “Something the matter? Cold feet? We don’t have to do this.” Spectre replied, flustered.

   Ryoken moved in a way in which it seemed like a non-verbal retort. He then huffed.

   “Don’t say such awful things about yourself. You’re not my bitch…” Ryoken replied.

   Spectre’s lower lip wobbled, and his voice warbled: “I am undeserving of your affections, but I shall receive them with utter euphoria.”

   Ryoken blushed. “W-Well we can start if you like then…” he replied awkwardly.

   “Well…? Have at me then!” Spectre announced, blushing.

   Ryoken’s palms sweated and his head embarrassedly tilted downwards; unable to face spectre as his body tightened. “I was, um,” he mumbled, “hoping you would do me.”

   “What?” Spectre’s voice asked, cracking.

   “I want you to make love to me.” Ryoken replied; such froufrou language was unsuitable to him but if it was what appealed to his partner, then he would sustain it. “I want to be shown your weird-ass kinks and stuff…”

   Spectre clasped his hands together, pinpricks of tears in his eyes – as though he felt heartfelt regarding the situation. He nodded sagely, like a priest in church.

   “Very well then.” Spectre said. “If that is what my master asks of me, who am I argue?”

   Ryoken swallowed. His groin grew comfortably hot and he sat himself down on the bed. Spectre moved to the closet and then began looking through things.

   “First, we’ll tie you down.” Spectre said. “It would be better if we had the proper gear but, alas…”

   “O-Okay.” Ryoken murmured.

   “I need you to be as stiff as possible.” Spectre said, and he went through some drawers.

   He found Ryoken’s collection of ties. He nodded to himself as he examined how taut and silky they were. He wrapped them around his hand and pulled. It didn’t hurt. Thus, they would be perfect in this sudden situation. Spectre pulled out four and then returned to Ryoken’s side.

   “We’re going to have so much fun, Ryoken-sama.” Spectre said with an eerily merry smile.

   “Right…” Ryoken hesitantly replied.

   Spectre placed his hand on Ryoken’s breast and shoved him down. Ryoken followed the momentum and his head hit the pillow. Spectre then hoisted himself up onto the bed and straddled him. He nuzzled against the ties and inhaled deeply. They smelt so subtly of his master, it drove him wild with desire.

   “So much indeed…” he mused.

   Then, his eyes snapped open. They bore a lusty sheen and drilled directly into Ryoken’s upward gaze. Spectre stretched himself across Ryoken.

   “You will let me know, yes, if it’s too tight?” Spectre said.

   “Of course.” Ryoken replied.

   Spectre hefted himself further up Ryoken’s body, so he could tie Ryoken to the bed better. Before, Spectre had placed himself on Ryoken’s lap, now, he straddled his chest. Ryoken blushed. He was uncomfortably close to Spectre’s crotch now. Meanwhile, his wrists had been taken asunder and were being tied to the bed board corners: left and right.

   Spectre slipped back to his original position. His needy hands clumsily ghosting over Ryoken’s chest.

   “How is it?” he asked, he sounded maddingly horny already.

   “Good.” Ryoken replied, and a breath escaped his mouth like a hiss. It seemed that he was already in the same vibrations as Spectre.

   Spectre retracted himself and grinned. “I’ll show you all of my soul to you, Ryoken-sama, I hope you can cherish it.”

   “O-Of cou-” Ryoken attempted to reply but Spectre interrupted him with a kiss.

   It was experimental yet chaste. It was slow and there was a methodology to how Spectre seemed to kiss. He went from the bottom up, messily meeting their upper lips together last. It was sweet. Ryoken’s heart began to beat faster. He’d never been intimate with anyone like this before, let alone with someone as close to him as Spectre.

   Spectre licked Ryoken’s lips then broke off the kiss. He took a breath. There was a dreamy, dazed look in his icy blue eyes. His lips twitched.

   “We’ve barely started but I’m so happy.” Spectre mumbled.

   Ryoken’s heart skipped a beat. He could feel Spectre’s bulge on his lap, and his own rising through.

   “It seems we’re both so excited and happy.” Spectre continued to murmur, so lovestruck.

   His hands ghosted over Ryoken’s chest, sliding down his sternum. His digit getting caught on buttons once in a while but overcoming them. He smiled and then he got to the end of Ryoken’s stomach, his finger toyed with Ryoken’s belt buckle. He paused. He fingered the underside of the buckle. Ryoken’s heart continued to pound faster.

   “What are you waiting for?” Ryoken asked, or more closely, demanded.

   “I’ve never let myself imagine my master’s wood before. I’m just savouring the moment. Because, from forever onwards, I’ll always remember what it looks like.” Spectre replied.

   Ryoken swallowed. He never thought that such a crude way of referring to a hard-on would ever sound poetic. He supposed that Spectre just had that way of talking. It was lyrical at times; artistic, he thought.

   “Whatever. Hurry up.” Ryoken muttered.

   Spectre’s finger overcame the metal bump which was Ryoken’s buckle. But first, he amused himself with Ryoken’s bulge. He poked at its highest point. Ryoken sucked in a sudden breath. He could feel himself grow uncomfortably hot and wet underneath Spectre’s digit. He was such a virgin, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

   “This is what I do if I masturbate to a tree, to be honest.” Spectre said.

   _What a fucking weird thing to say – and do_ , Ryoken thought to himself but he unflinchingly met Spectre’s gaze with non-judgemental attention instead.

   “I admire all its bumps and knots. All its whorls and rivets. Everything that makes it beautiful and unique.” he murmured, and he dragged his finger around the diameter of Ryoken’s bulge as he spoke. “You’d make the most beautiful tree, Ryoken-sama, with your limbs.”

   “Thank you?” Ryoken replied.

   Had it come from anyone else, that likely would have been an insult. But, as it had come from the known dendrophile, Ryoken was weirdly flattered instead. He watched as Spectre shifted. He was growing hotter and wetter by the agonising millisecond he savoured the moment. So, Spectre took a breath and pinched the zipper belonging to Ryoken’s trousers.

   He dragged it down and the bulge was freed slightly. There were still other obstacles, so Spectre tenderly removed them as well. He fidgeted with the belt buckle and he gently unwound it from Ryoken’s waist. He dumped it on the floor and then began to snatch at Ryoken’s waist.

   Ryoken shivered at Spectre’s touch. He was cold and Ryoken’s hips were sensitive to such demure touches, it seemed. He waited with bated breath until Spectre had, for the most part, undressed him to his satisfaction. Soon enough, Ryoken’s slacks and briefs were at his ankles. Spectre straddled him at lower point, on his mid-thigh. Likely so he could absorb the spectacle.

   “You have such gorgeous and elegant limbs and your wood is splendid, I don’t even have to touch it yet to know it.” Spectre complimented, awed.

   “It’s just a dick.” Ryoken said.

   “But it’s not just “a dick”. It is your dick. I – I’ve been hoping of this moment for so long and yet, I’m so unprepared.” Spectre spoke as though Ryoken’s cock were holy.

   Spectre then leaned in and he was immediate. He was completely unafraid to get uncomfortably close and personal. He began underneath Ryoken’s dick. His nose to Ryoken’s testicles, completely unfazed by the smell or appearance. He licked tentatively and smiled. He held Ryoken’s dick with grace as he licked upwards, along the slit.

   Ryoken hardened considerably as Spectre ravished him. He was strangely romantic about it. Cooing as he ran his tongue along Ryoken’s flesh. Though, he was downright lewd whenever his mouth sealed around Ryoken’s cock and he forced himself to go as hard down on it as he could. His technique was indescribable. It got Ryoken hot; even as he had to keep in the back of his mind exactly how someone like Spectre learned to do such beguiling things with his tongue.

   Honestly, keeping it close to his thoughts got Ryoken off as well. This was what he had been after right, the sort of insight into Spectre’s sexuality since it was grotesque and fascinating. As Spectre sucked him off with ardent passion, Ryoken couldn’t help but imagine those lips around other things aside from his cock. His accursed mind couldn’t help but imagine Spectre pleasuring himself with all matter of materials which were, by all accounts, inappropriate for such erotic pursuits. 

   Ryoken groaned. He shifted beneath Spectre who hummed contentedly despite how occupied he was. He wasn’t ignorant as to how Ryoken was feeling or as to what he was thinking. Internally, he smiled. This had been a dear dream and wish to him for quite some time.

   This was because spectre was of the belief that sex could be used as a tool to achieve a sublime connection. And he was rather fond of connections; particularly his one to Ryoken. There was, truly, nothing more that Spectre desired than to be able to have Ryoken all to himself and he, the same in return. He wanted to belong solely to Ryoken. There was a unity in sex and thus, Spectre was going to enjoy himself all he could during this tryst lest he never gets the chance again – and he was not a hopeful man despite his whimsy and other fantasies.

   Ryoken shifted awkwardly. His hips moving upwards as to give Spectre better access to himself. He groaned. His whole body felt alight; enflamed. But it was pleasurable. So pleasurable in fact that it almost pained him because it was too much of a good thing. His breathing grew shallow. His breaths rasped in his throat as his face reddened. His whole body tingled.

   Spectre noticed and lewdly, his mouth popped off Ryoken’s shaft. A thin trail of saliva hung from the top of Ryoken’s slit to Spectre’s lower lip. Bedroom eyes hung between them both.

   “Enjoying yourself… Ryoken-sama?” Spectre asked, and he licked his lips.

   A lump bulged in Ryoken’s throat. Ryoken couldn’t help but mimic spectre by licking his lips too, out of synch but almost out of a hypnotic suggestion. He could feel himself leak with pre-cum. His body ached. He knew he wanted release soon, but it was Spectre who seemed to control the rhythm of their bodies.

   “Yeah…” Ryoken’s already quiet voice barely made it out of his mouth.

   Spectre inched along closer. His hands on Ryoken’s hips. He grinded his crotch against Ryoken’s erection and nuzzled his face. He kissed the corner of Ryoken’s mouth. Ryoken’s heart fluttered. Spectre then whispered in his ear: “Cum in my mouth, please.”

   “You’re filthy.” Ryoken muttered.

   “It displeases you…?” Spectre asked. “I mean, I won’t lie… I believe it to be unbecoming-”

   “No, I’ll do it. I’ll fuck your mouth right if that’s what you want.” Ryoken replied, firm of heart and voice but Spectre could hear that slight tint of uncertainty of whether or not he could, to his own standards, fuck Spectre’s mouth.

   However, that wasn’t what Spectre fixated on. Rather, he worried over Ryoken’s vocabulary. He caressed the side of Ryoken’s face.

   “Please stop saying such less than beautiful things with your tongue, Ryoken-sama.” Spectre begged.

   “Then put your ‘wood’ in my mouth and shut me up yourself.” Ryoken challenged Spectre.

   Spectre’s expression faltered, and he drew back. It seemed there could be no arguing about how vulgar Ryoken could be. Worse yet, Spectre was beginning to have an inkling that Ryoken was already keeping most of his dirty talk to himself. He wondered why because he could absolutely take anything that Ryoken spat at him. However, for now, he endeavoured to bring Ryoken to his first breaking point.

   Spectre settled against Ryoken’s legs, in between them. He put his mouth to Ryoken’s cock; completely unafraid of the taste that lingered on it. In fact, he seemed to relish it. Ryoken was soon mesmerised by the way in which Spectre sucked dick. He was so strangely graceful about it.

   The way his tongue dragged along his slit and the way he kissed the tip, it was downright romantic. Ryoken shifted again. His body pulsed with pleasure and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Spectre’s face. His mouth was puckered and dripping with saliva and precum. He had his eyes closed and Ryoken was now aware, more so now than ever, that Spectre had such lovely and long eyelashes. Although, as serene as such an image was for Ryoken, who delighted without end over it, assuredly, he still had to remember why such an image was plausible. It was because of all that damned practice Spectre had with the-

   But before Ryoken could even finished that though, perhaps fortunately, he felt the sting of Spectre’s nails on his hips. Before, Spectre’s hands remained on Ryoken’s hips though. They dug in slightly, but they were so tense. Ryoken could feel the pinch of Spectre’s manicured nails. It was as though he were afraid that if he let go, all of it would go.

   Ryoken stared down at the sight. He tugged at his ties. He hadn’t thought that Spectre would want to tie him up, but it was rather fun, even with the slight strain slowly stringing along through his arms. Although, right now, he wished he could hold spectre’s hands or something. Maybe even muss up his hair. He wanted to do something with his hands, so he could better appreciate Spectre’s technique in a way that didn’t involve nearly choking him with thrusts into his mouth.

   Regardless, Ryoken could feel the friction building inside of him. Spectre’s tongue lashed at his slit and he was beginning to grow impatient. Ryoken knew neither of them could take it. Ryoken’s heart hammered and Spectre’s fingers continued to dig into the exposed skin on Ryoken’s hips. Ryoken trembled and he groaned.

   The lilt of his voice was slurred and muddied by lust. But it was like music nonetheless to Spectre who sighed as he lessened his grip on Ryoken. His tongue continued to drag voluptuously on Ryoken’s skin. Ryoken’s heart beat hard in his chest and he tugged on his restraints again.

   With a thrust, and his eyes clenched, Ryoken found himself begging for release. He was needy and throbbing. Then, he felt the gush and Spectre moaned onto him. His voice reverberated on Ryoken’s body and Ryoken panted.

   Spectre’s cheeks bulged as he tried to catch the cum that Ryoken produced. He opened his eyes and his face became gruesome with ecstasy. Ryoken did not avert his eyes. It was here that the less than palatable version of Spectre’s sense of self took stride as he licked along Ryoken’s slit as it produced cum. As always, Spectre was all too eager to clean Ryoken’s mess.

   Ryoken watched and his body twitched. Spectre gracefully handled Ryoken’s length as he licked. Soon, he finished up and he wiped his mouth curtly with this sadistic and keen look in his eye.

   “Have I performed well for you, master?” he asked, and he sat up right between Ryoken’s legs.

   His chest pushed forth as he took his jacket off. Ryoken’s gaze fell downwards from Spectre’s face, pallid but flushed with fluttering eyelashes and swollen lips, to his body. He looked as though he had barely worked up a sweat. Although, Ryoken’s attention was starkly drawn to Spectre’s crotch.

   Spectre noticed and smiled an eerie smile. “Like what you see?” he asked.

   “You’re so one-minded,” Ryoken scolded him, “neglecting yourself to fulfil me.”

   “We’ll see about that.” Spectre said.

   He unbuttoned his blouse and discarded it promptly. Ryoken winced slightly at the look of Spectre’s chest. He could talk endlessly about how he cherished the memories of the Incident, but it could be undoubted that there had been physical effects which had impacted him physically. He could deny or welcome the mental and emotional ones all he wanted but the physical issues seemed to imply something contrary.

   He was thin, even to the point of malnourishment despite better efforts to fatten him in his adolescence. And then there was the quality of the taut skin which stretched over his bones. It seemed frail. It was scarred, after all. It wasn’t necessarily disconcerting, Ryoken was intimate with Spectre because of their long history together. They had grown up together as kids, playing under sprinklers and sharing rooms, Ryoken knew about Spectre’s scars but still. Seeing them as an adult with a better grasp for reality, left him wincing.

   Guilt constricted his insides; ruining his appetite for carnal pleasure. Ryoken hoped that he could pass it off more as him attempting to recuperate from cumming. Unfortunately, Spectre was perceptive, and he smiled serenely as he toyed with his belt buckle, not even looking at Ryoken.

   “It’s not your fault.” Spectre said. “A body is only a physical vessel. It doesn’t matter.”

   Ryoken shifted his hands above his head. He yearned to run his fingers along the curves of Spectre’s body, but he couldn’t. Spectre noticed the movement of his hands though; the way the fabric folded around his wrists and kept him bound. The sound of it all rubbing together. He licked his lips wetly.

   Spectre finished unthreading his belt from around his waist. He coiled it in his hand and there was a glint in his eyes. He flashed this lustful look at Ryoken. His insides squirmed, and his cock twitched. That was hot but threatening.

   “Do you… want me to punish you?” Spectre asked. “Because I could never raise a hand to you, Ryoken-sama. Not even in jest or pretence.”

   “I know.” Ryoken replied.

   Though, he wished otherwise. Ryoken was a willing victim. To flay himself in the stead of his father’s crimes. He was happy to take such a masochistic lashing if it brought fulfilment – of any kind – to Spectre, regardless of the outcome of such gratification. Be it sexual or vengeful.

   Spectre let go of the belt from around his hand. He then let it drop to the ground. With exaggeratedly difficult movement, he removed himself from the bed. He cocked his head slightly as he undid the top button on his trousers. Slowly, teasingly, he unzipped his fly and let his erection spring loose. The hemline of his slacks fell to his ankles. With a swift kick, he pushed his pants elsewhere. Ryokan craned his head and he studied the curveteur of Spectre’s ass. He couldn’t believe what a pervert he was as he wore a thong which tightly coiled around his waist.

   “Do you keep condoms in your drawers?” Spectre asked as his spidery fingers grasped around the top of the bottle of lube which had been sitting, waiting, for its moment of use.

   “Yeah…” Ryoken replied. “But… you don’t have anything, right? Like, if you can tell me in confidence you don’t have any, then I don’t care. You can hit me raw.”

   Spectre paused a moment. Such a pause did not instil Ryoken with the best confidence. But it did instil him some images that he probably could have lived without, had it not given him another burst of sudden arousal to toy with the ideas of Spectre in such situations.

   “I think it is best for our health if we use protection… but,” Spectre’s voice trailed off and there was a hint in his voice which alluded to the possibility that he had lewd ideas.

   “But what?” Ryoken asked.

   “I want to fill you with my seed.” Spectre admitted.

   Ryoken blushed. “I mean, if that’s what you want. A-And it’s what I want too.” Ryoken replied, thinking to himself about how gross it was going to be.

   “Sexually transmitted infections can still manifest between two virgins though and I could not forgive myself if I accidentally caused something.” Spectre worried.

   Spectre soon found what he was looking for. So, he grabbed the bottle of lube as well and returned to bed. He slipped himself between Ryoken’s legs. He paused another moment and he let Ryoken eye up his wettened front and to admire how his erection pressed unto the fabric of his godforsaken thong.

   “I can’t believe you…” Ryoken muttered.

   Spectre placed the lube by his left thigh and let the condoms fall where they may. Whether or not they got used, a different story but the option was there and burning a hole in the linen of Ryoken’s bed. Spectre put his right hand on his hip. He paused another moment, to tantalise. As though to accentuate the mystery; even though there was none. Ryoken was more than aware there was a dick underneath that lewd, green cloth.

   Spectre breathed deeply then hooked his finger under the thin ribbon of a waistline his thong possessed. He ripped at it and his erection bounced out from underneath the pull of the fabric. Ryoken licked his lips together, unthinkingly. Spectre was amused by the sight of Ryoken’s excitement; his heart warmed, even. Fluttered.

   He came in a little closer. Until there was no space between them. Their erections rubbed together, and Spectre’s hands ghosted up Ryoken’s dishevelled shirt. He kissed Ryoken’s cheek.

   “Hey, Spectre,” Ryoken said, “you mean a lot to me.”

   “And you mean all the world to me.” Spectre replied lovingly.

   His lips pressed against Ryoken’s cheek again, briefly, before Ryoken turned his head and forced a kiss between their lips. Spectre welcomed it, though. His tongue snaked into Ryoken’s mouth. He groaned sensually as Spectre pressed about inside his salivating mouth. Spectre’s hands roamed downwards again before planting themselves on Ryoken’s hips. He thumbed over the appearance of Ryoken’s bones. The movements were slight and yet, the pleasure elicited from such small movements were great.

   It was Spectre who broke off the kiss. Ryoken’s lips remained parted though. It seemed that he was still needy for more contact despite the prolonged kiss that they had been engaged in. It was rather an achievement because the taste of such a kiss was abhorrent with the sweetness of fruit and the tang of cum.

   “Let me prepare you for the full thrust of my love.” Spectre whispered.

   Ryoken reddened. He was enticed – but also sort of terrified – by such a declaration.

   “Alright.” he mumbled.

   Spectre’s hands wandered along Ryoken’s arms. The hairs on them stood up; his skin prickled. Spectre noticed and was flattered that Ryoken was so sensitive to him. It was darling. A smile was pricked on his thin, yet swollen, lips. His fingers soon wrapped around the binds that tied Ryoken.

   Gently, Spectre undid the binds. He let Ryoken readjust. Without thinking, he sussed out the redness on his wrists and ran his fingers over where the ties had sunken in against his skin. Spectre took Ryoken’s right hand delicately. He kissed Ryoken’s wrist and for a moment, a princely feeling struck. He blushed. Spectre’s kiss deepened though. He tongued over the red triangle. Ryoken grimaced. It was pleasant and that’s why he disliked it.

   He yanked his hand away from Spectre’s mouth when it felt as though Spectre had lingered too long. Spectre made no displeased expression. He could accept when Ryoken wanted to exert unspoken boundaries. So, instead, he decided to continue what he had been in the middle of before being distracted by Ryoken’s hands.

   “Come on,” Spectre said, “get on your hands and knees.”

   Ryoken grimaced again. It was strangely unsightly to be the one taking orders between them. It was different. He was neutral towards it, but it was still an uncharacteristic exchange. But, he followed it nonetheless. After all, he was the one who had demanded to take it even though Spectre had already been plenty willing.

   Ryoken huffed. The bed creaked slightly. Spectre laid beside Ryoken, watching as he got comfortable.

   “Put your hands in front of your head, I want to tie you up again.” Spectre said.

   “Very well.” Ryoken said.

   “And remember, I want you to be as stiff and unyielding as possible.” Spectre continued.

   “I accept the challenge.” Ryoken replied.

   “Let me know if you experience any discomfort.” Spectre said.

   Spectre grabbed the ties again, readied them. Ryoken flexed his fingers before they curled back into a fist. Spectre then tied Ryoken to the bed board again. Ryoken glared into the pillow as Spectre did so. Spectre plunged his fingers between the fabric and Ryoken’s binds.

   “Do you feel any?” Spectre asked.

   “Nah.” Ryoken replied.

   “Good.” Spectre said, and he pecked Ryoken’s cheek one last time.

   Spectre pushed Ryoken’s wrists closer together. Ryoken sucked in a quick breath. There was pressure along his sides; from his upper arms and down to lower back, along that stretch of his body. It was pleasant but Ryoken knew it’d be sore later but for now, he permitted. Spectre drew back, and his hands placed on Ryoken’s waist. Slowly, he guided Ryoken’s body to turn over unto the other half of the king-sized bed. Ryoken was now face down; his knees digging into the mattress.

   Spectre tugged on Ryoken’s ankles. Ryoken pushed himself to flatten himself slightly. He then widened the distance between his ankles. Spectre slotted himself behind Ryoken. Ryoken took a deep breath.

   “You can start.” he said, embarrassedly.

   “With pleasure.” Spectre breathily replied.

   He grabbed the bottle of lube and with a quick twist, he broke the seal on it. With the crack of plastic breaking, the release of a vivacious smell was immediate. Ryoken could have suffocated on such a clotting, saccharine smell of flowers and fruit. Spectre hummed to himself. He squirted a generous amount into his hands. He coated his fingers in it eagerly.

   Spectre put his mouth to Ryoken’s anus. He kissed his ass, his tongue slipped outwards, licking around the hole. A chill was sent down Ryoken’s spine; his weary eyes suddenly wide open. The feeling of Spectre’s tongue up his ass was indescribable and awkward but kind of incredible too.

   Ryoken couldn’t see what was happening but he got the feeling that Spectre really was unafraid of all things anatomical. Moreover, it did crazy things to his body. With the feeling of Spectre’s tongue up his ass, the textures and pressures, were more than enough to send Ryoken into shivers. His cock arching against the flat of his stomach and his fingers began digging into his palms; leaving indents of his nails along the lines and wrinkles.

   Spectre drew back. Ryoken sighed. But, Ryoken did not get any reprieve as Spectre replaced his tongue with his fingers. Ryoken squeaked out of surprise. Before, it had been warm but now, with the slime of lubricant, it was cold. It was extremely disconcerting.  However, Ryoken strove on even if it meant taking an unusually deep breath.

   Again, Spectre had no reservations or hesitations regarding what he was doing. His movements, as he stuck his fingers up to stimulate Ryoken, were precise and confident. He seemed to enjoy the lewd sputters that Ryoken coughed up as he felt up and around Ryoken’s hole.

   “Enjoying yourself…?” Spectre inquired with a softly trailing voice.

   “You’re really good? Do this to yourself often?” Ryoken asked, snippy.

   As though to reprimand him, Ryoken received a sudden and uncharacteristic shove of Spectre’s fingers. Spectre laughed though. Together, Ryoken became certain the answer was yes and with that of course came spectral images of Spectre masturbating. Ryoken’s cock continued to strain up against the flat of his stomach but this time, it began to leak with pre-cum again. He took deep and heavy breaths which were punctuated with rough finger fucking.

   Spectre licked his lips hungrily as he continued to prepare Ryoken for anal sex. Ryoken was so pliant at his touch. It was obvious he wasn’t used to such touches. What a chaste master he had, Spectre realised. How sweet, even.  He closed his eyes and his rough insertions of his fingers began to incline to something more gradually paced. Spectre listened to Ryoken’s vocalisations; they changed nearly immediately.

   “Tell me, Ryoken-sama, do you want my seed?” Spectre asked so conversationally that it could have been a question about anything else.

   “Y-Yes.” Ryoken sputtered.

   “Can’t you reply more empathetically then?” Spectre asked, and his words twisted in like a knife of lust.

   Furthermore, his fingers twisted in further than before. Ryoken could feel the pulse of his prostate stimulated. He could have melted at such a touch which was both violent and romantic. He wanted this sensation to never leave; for it to be bullied over and over again either by Spectre’s fingers or, better yet, with that cock of his.

   Ryoken could barely think straight with Spectre’s fingers up so far in him. He licked his lips and he lifted his heads slightly. He could see phosphenes on the backboard. His spine arched and all the little pains along his sides from being tied up at he was became the sweetest pleasures.

   “I want – I want to be planted with all your seed. I want you to give me all your wood until neither of us can take it anymore. Please, I absolutely want your seed, Spectre- _sama_.” Ryoken begged.

   Spectre blushed. A tingle went up his spine. He hadn’t expected Ryoken to reply like that. The movements of his fingers ceased. Ryoken whined with disappointment. Spectre licked his lips. He was quietly confident that Ryoken had been worked up enough anally for insertion and, it was possible, even if he wasn’t, he was likely going to enjoy it regardless. His heart pounded.

   Never had Spectre ever thought that he would be the reason for such elicit mewls from his master. His heart continued to pound until it felt fit to burst from his chest. He slowly removed his fingers from Ryoken’s anal cavity. He wiped them against his thigh and then against the linen.

   Spectre took the bottle of lube again. He glanced at the condoms and with a bold breath, decided to forgo. If that was a decision that ruined either of their health, then Spectre would find ways to atone. Even if it meant conquering his distrust of hospitals and doctors; something he won’t deny, something which was brought on by the aftermath of the Lost Incident.

   Spectre squeezed the bottle and another pungent fume of flowers and fruits pierced the room. Though, with the considerable sweat and musk these young men had worked up, it was slightly more welcoming this time. Spectre lubricated both himself and Ryoken with copious amounts.

   Ryoken huffed as the cold gel was applied to him liberally and gently. “I just had a thought.” He announced.

   “Yes, sir?” Spectre prompted him.

   “Since you’re a dendrophile and since this is more or less a scene of me emulating a tree – whether I like it or not – does that make the lube like tree sap or something?” Ryoken asked; abrasively to mask the embarrassment over voicing such a thing.

   Spectre perked up. His eyes glittered. “What a good thought. Ryoken-sama has such a marvellous imagination.” he replied.

   Ryoken groaned. He could tell that was meant to be praise but it made his insides feel weird instead of fuzzy. He shouldn’t have said anything.

   “Oh, and by the way, are you ready for me to perform anal sex on you?” Spectre asked.

   “Yes. Fuck yes. Give me your seed or whatever.” Ryoken replied.

   “Excellent.” Spectre hummed.

   Spectre readied himself again and without further ado, he lined up his cock to Ryoken’s entrance. His cockhead ghosted over Ryoken’s anus. He shivered at its touch. His skin prickled, and he took a breath. Spectre smiled to himself and then inserted himself into Ryoken’s hole.

   It was followed by smooth, gliding thrust that was shallow. He wanted Ryoken to get used to the difference between his fingers and his cock before building up any momentum. Ryoken moaned. His voice warbled with pleasure and it was music unto Spectre’s ears. Spectre hummed contentedly.

   Spectre experimentally gave a thrust which was harder and rougher than the first. Ryoken sputtered. He thrashed slightly; his bound hands tugging at their constraints. His back arched.

   “My, my… Ryoken-sama, you’re so… needy.” Spectre said with breathy emphasis.

   He thrusted again. His chest puffed out. His hands clung tightly around Ryoken’s waist. He could feel the heavy throb of breath and blood inside of Ryoken. It turned him on. It was so completely unlike the sort of things he was used to handling during sex.

   Ryoken’s voice rasped in his throat. He tried to reply but Spectre cut him off each time with a thrust which was deeper than the one before it. For a brief moment, Ryoken’s prostate was hit again and the melodic moan which ensued seemed to harden Spectre all the more.

   “I love it. I love you. I love you so much.” Spectre repeated over and over like a cuckoo bird in oestrus. “All I want is to be needed by you and right now, I’ve never felt more wanted. I love you.”

   With every croon of his obsessed voice, Spectre’s thrusts became erratic. Some were blissfully deep, and others were tantalisingly shallow. Furthermore, the pre-cum that Spectre produced dripped painfully from his engorged cock; mixing with the lube. The smell of it was heady and musky but they both breathed deep regardless. Ryoken’s fingers continued to curl in against his palms. Ryoken attempted to wrack his brains for something but with every thrust, his thinking jumped and became distorted by lust but there was something he had to confirm.

   “Sp-Sectre!” Ryoken coughed out.

   Spectre stopped, and his eyes widened as his body quivered with fear: “Yes, Ryoken-sama?” he asked, his voice quick and worried. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

   “No,” Ryoken replied, “I just wanted to know something.”

   “The wealth of knowledge I have is at your dispersion.” Spectre replied.

   “Have you ever told me that you lo-love me before…?” Ryoken asked.

   Spectre blushed. “No, sir, I have not.”

   “D-Did you mean it? Just then?” Ryoken asked.

   “Of course, I meant it. You own my entire soul. I love you with all of my being.” Spectre replied.

   “I’m glad.” Ryoken replied.

   “And, it ought to go without saying, but I am satisfied if my love is never requited. I also understand that even though we’ve deflowered each other, it will have no external effect on our relationship lest it become a liability or something.” Spectre continued.

   “Spectre…” Ryoken mumbled. “It’s just… I love you as well. And I mean it. Despite everything, despite everything, I do love you. And if us having sex changes what we have, then let it change because I believe – I want to believe – that’s it would become for the better.”

   “Ryoken-sa…” Spectre’s voice trailed off. “Ryoken…”

   Ryoken was surprised. He didn’t even tell Spectre to correct himself, and yet he had. What a rare moment. Ryoken took a breath.

   “Let’s do it. Let’s cum together.” Ryoken said.

   “I would be thrilled.” Spectre replied all too eagerly.

   Spectre thrusted into Ryoken again. Ryoken struggled, slightly, against his bondage. There was a renewed, ardent passion to Spectre’s movements. Ryoken took each thrust in good nature, though. It wasn’t as painful as he thought it would be, no matter how rough Spectre got. It was strangely blissful in the wild release adrenaline and endorphins. He moaned with every plunge of Spectre’s cock which hit his core. He enjoyed it thoroughly, until he couldn’t see straight.

   And Ryoken was not the only one who was in the throes of ecstasy of the ardour of their amorous love-making. This his fervent and oft obsessive love in his heart, Spectre was determined to make the best of their first – of hopefully many – sessions of love-making. He wanted to leave a good tempo for himself and yet, he was so madly driven. If his mouth had not been dry, he would have kept repeating on and on his proclamations of love for he did not believe in the idea that something could be worn out by saying it so many times.

   He kept thrusting deep into Ryoken; penetrating him with passion in every second of it. Spectre’s heart hammered in his chest and in his head. He focused intently on the back of Ryoken’s head. He wished dearly he could see the sight of his master – of his lover – driven so wildly to the base and carnal. Instead, all Spectre could do was imagine and make estimates based on the way Ryoken’s head bobbed and his hands struggled in their binds.

   Spectre licked his lips. They were chapped and swollen still; tingly with the faintest tastes now of Ryoken and their sex. He plunged deeper still; until Ryoken mewled for mercy because it was so unusually strong. Until the hilt of his cock was as pressed up against Ryoken’s ass as it was ever going to get.

   Ryoken struggled underneath him; his hands tugging desperately against his restraints. Spectre relished the playful thrashings beneath him. With every breath and thrust, Spectre could feel himself inch closer to his orgasm until he could feel himself at the brink. The pulsing pleasure of sex had filled all of him and become a lively force of vitality that it made it hard to breathe and think.

   “Sp-Spectre…” Ryoken gasped from beneath him.

   Spectre’s grip on Ryoken’s waist tightened, even as it left marks.

   “Pl-Please. I want your seed.” he begged so needily with tears in his eyes.

   And that was what brought Spectre over the edge. Like raindrops on a leaf so heavy, it finally tipped. Spectre came. His cock erupted with fluids. Ryoken gasped and he could feel himself take upon the load inside of him. His eyes widened but he didn’t mind how it coursed through him and dripped down him.

   Ryoken panted and even as he came, Spectre continued to rut him. With every continual thrust, Ryoken could feel everything all the more until it was just mind-numbingly good in every imaginable and conceivable way. He came again; this time onto the bed without a care for the splatter and mess. They had been a little out of synch with one another, but the result had still been within acceptable seconds. Although, given that both were naturally perfectionists with a competitive streak, there was little doubt that future endeavours would be undertaken with more coordinated precision.

   But, for now, they could enjoy the post orgasmic bliss. When Spectre noticed the wet between Ryoken’s legs, seeping through the middle of the bed they shared, he slowed.

   “You did so well, my love.” Spectre cooed.

   “Thanks.” croaked Ryoken. He swallowed.

   Spectre laid off him and panted.

   “Um… Spectre…?” Ryoken murmured. “Can I please be untied now?”

   “Oh! Oh, yes, of course, Ryoken.” Spectre rambled.

   Spectre hefted off the bed. He untied Ryoken’s closest hand and let Ryoken handle the other. Ryoken sighed. He rubbed his fingers along the constraints. He groaned.

   “I’m going to be really sore tomorrow. You’re such a perverted bastard.” Ryoken muttered.

   Spectre sat down next to Ryoken; he leaned in. “You loved it. You love me.” he replied, sing-song.

   “True.” Ryoken relented.

   He turned his head slightly so that his chin jutted onto Spectre’s forehead. Spectre noticed, and his eyes flicked upwards to meet Ryoken’s softening gaze. It held for a moment with a simpering cool to it, like a breeze after a summer storm.

   “I love you. I really do.” Ryoken said.

   “I love you too.” Spectre replied with bliss in his eyes.

   Spectre lifted his head off of Ryoken’s shoulder where it had been nestled. Ryoken iniated this kiss. Spectre kissed back with gentle ardour. He wanted Ryoken to know he meant his words with his whole soul: be it in word or action. Ryoken knew. He had always known.

   Ryoken broke off the kiss with a dreamy gaze and he bade Spectre one last post-coital “I love you” but this time, he addressed it with the name that Spectre had sworn off. The name the orphanage had given him. The name he had shed once he had pledged his loyalty to the Hanoi Project.

   He was unamused with Ryoken calling him with that forbidden name, but he understood the intimacy of it. No one knew him by that name these days. No one except for Ryoken, really. So, he could appreciate its utterance in this context, but he still didn’t want to hear it again. Not even in the coo of an orgasm.

   And, to ensure that such a name never left Ryoken’s lips again, he sealed it with a kiss. Spectre initiated another kiss. It was slow and of closed eyes. And it got them hungry for each other all over again; just like the springtime lovers they were, really. At least until Ryoken broke off the kiss again with a sudden and burning question on his tongue.

   His brows knitted together. “Hey, Spectre, be honest…” His eyes averted Spectre’s gaze as he awaited the question. “What’s better? My dick or a cucumber?”

   Spectre stiffened. His lips twitched, and his eyes were suddenly anywhere but in Ryoken’s direction.

   “Well,” he began pointedly but his point went nowhere except to his fidgeting hands.

   Ryoken’s heart stopped and he felt a sudden shot of fury. Or maybe it was disbelief. It had better be disbelief.

   “You. Of course.” Spectre replied but for once, his voice did not drip with its usual dulcet sincerity and earnestness.

   “Motherfucker.” Ryoken gasped. “You just lied to me. I’d be mad if it wasn’t so weird.”

   “No, no. I mean it. The answer is obviously your dick. I much preferred its wood to the wood of something else.” Spectre continued but he also continued digging this grave for himself.

   “You can be honest. I can handle it.” Ryoken insisted.

   “Fine. If this is what you want to hear. Due to my preferences, I might slightly prefer organic plant matter to your dick. Happy now that you’ve humiliated me?” Spectre asked with faux offence.

   “Yes. I am very happy now.” Ryoken replied with decisive nod which made Spectre laugh.

   “So, does that mean I’ve converted you?” Spectre asked.

   “Only to bondage.” Ryoken replied. “And even then, I’d be lying if I said the thought of fucking someone tied up hadn’t been a fantasy of mine before all this. Though being tied up and being fucked is a slightly different story.”

   “We’ll take turns then.” Spectre suggested.

   “Yeah.” Ryoken replied with a slight harrumph.

   “And I am determined now to convert you to the way of dendrophilia.” Spectre continued.

   “What you do in your private time is none of my concern and if you think for a second I’m some day going to let you shove a cucumber up my ass, you’ve got another thing coming.” Ryoken continued.

   “We’ll see.” Spectre replied with a mischievous look in his eye which was kind of hot.


End file.
